Stakeout
by leyapearl
Summary: When Frank has a date, Joe takes Chet on a "cheating boyfriend" stakeout.  It's boring, routine work, so what could possibly go wrong?  Follows Encrypted.
1. Chapter 1

"So, I'll pick you up at six-thirty for the Martinez case." Joe Hardy checked off the last item on the list of things he needed to discuss with his brother. "And I think that's the end of it for today." He looked up to see Frank regarding him with an odd expression. "What?"

"You really don't listen to anything I say, do you?" Frank's voice was caught between amusement and irritation. "It amazes me that we were raised by the same parents." He leaned back on the rear legs of his chair to get closer to the door of Joe's office, being careful not to spill his coffee in the process. "Hey, Chet," he yelled over his shoulder, "remind me to call home tomorrow and ask if Joe was adopted."

A burst of laughter rang in the reception area. "Sure thing, boss." A beat. "What'd he do _this_ time?" The phone rang, and they heard Chet's upbeat voice say, "Hardy Investigations, how may we help you?" before it faded into the background.

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Very funny," then he sighed. "All right, what did I forget?" He started drumming his fingers on the table. "It's not geek night – that's Thursday."

"Chess club," Frank corrected, bringing his ceramic coffee mug to his mouth, "and you didn't forget, you didn't listen... Again."

"Whatever." Joe waved the words away impatiently. "You do laundry on Mondays, housecleaning and calling home on Tuesdays, _Chess club_ on Thursdays..." he ticked each item off on the other hand as he listed it, "which means tonight you're free because it's Wednesday. And it's for a case. So I'll pick you up at..."

Frank shook his head. "No. I have a date."

"_What?" _Joe's mouth dropped open.

"I. Have. A. Date," Frank said slowly, emphasizing each word.

"I'm sorry, did you say you have a _date_? Tonight?" Joe asked, stunned.

"You know, you're just proving my point. About not listening?" Frank sipped his coffee. "I told you this two weeks ago."

Joe shook his head like a dog shaking off water. "No. _That_ I'd remember." He narrowed his eyes. "A date. Like with a girl?"

Frank's expression turned serious and his gaze dropped to the mug he cradled in his hands. "Would it matter if I told you it was with a man?" he asked, his voice dropping nearly to a whisper. He lifted the mug so it hid the bottom half of his face and looked at his younger brother with a fearful, almost pleading expression in his eyes.

"Uh, no?" Joe stammered, his eyes growing wide and face turning red. "Look, Frank, you're my brother, and if you're... I mean, you're still you... I mean, uh, there's nothing wrong..."

"You can stop now. It's with a woman," Frank interrupted, his features relaxing. "I was mostly curious what your reaction would be. Now I know, and, I have to say, I'm impressed." He flashed a grin at his still-sputtering brother. "And the look on your face was priceless. You _really_ need to stop doubting my acting abilities." He swallowed the rest of his coffee, watched as Joe's face slowly returned to its normal color, then tilted his head to one side. "Don't you think I would have told you if I were gay?"

"You? Robot man, share something?" Joe snorted. "You'd been broken up with Callie for months before you told any of us." He thought for a moment running a hand over his forehead and through his blond hair, his blue eyes distant. "Come to think of it, you _didn't_ tell me. Phil did, and he only knew because he ran into Callie at some museum. And you've been on, what, four dates since then? Since college? And you wonder why I believed you?"

Frank shrugged. "It's been a few more than that. What can I say? I'm particular. Unlike some younger brothers I know."

"Who is it?" Joe asked. Frank shook his head. "Oh, come on, 'bro. You're leaving me to do a stakeout on my own, and I don't even get to know who you're going out with? That's so not fair. At least tell me _where_ you're going."

"Life's not fair. Get used to it." Frank rose from his seat. "And why don't you take Chet with you?" he suggested, moving towards the door. "He'd probably enjoy it. I'm taking her to see a show" – he mentioned the name of a popular musical playing on Broadway – "so, I'm heading home to clean up before she arrives. We're meeting at my place," he said, responding to the confused look on Joe's face. "I live closer to the theater."

Joe regarded Frank, puzzlement still evident in his blue eyes. "You're taking her to see a musical?"

Frank stopped in the doorway. "Yes. Why?"

"'Bro, are you _sure_ you're not gay?" At the look on Frank's face, Joe erupted in laughter but still managed to raise a hand in enough time to catch the empty coffee mug when Frank threw it at his head.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Be right there!" Frank took a last look in the mirror, straightened his already straight tie and smoothed his dark brown hair, noting it was almost time to get it cut again. He strode to the door and threw it open, the smile on his face fading when he saw his brother in the hall. "What?" he asked, his tone bordering on unfriendly, his eyes glancing up and down the hallway.

Joe shrugged. "My telephoto lens went AWOL. I need to borrow yours for tonight." Frank glared at his brother and opened his mouth to protest, but Joe cut him off. "We're being paid to do a stakeout, Frank. It's much less effective if I can't actually see what's happening."

Frank walked to a closet and wrenched the door open, practically taking the hinges off in the process. Still glaring at Joe, he reached one hand up to a shelf, pulled down a small box, and thrust in his brother's hands. "Leave. Now." The words came through clenched teeth and closed lips.

"Charming," Joe said with a grin. "Your lady friend will be very impressed with the ventriloquist bit, I'm sure." He pulled the larger of the two lenses from the box, handed the container back to his brother, and attached the lens to the camera looped around his neck. "Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves the field wide open," Frank muttered as he rolled his eyes. "Just go."

Joe gave a jaunty salute and opened the apartment door. A stunningly beautiful woman stood in the hall, her hand raised to knock. She was at least a foot shorter than Joe and wore a deep blue, V-neck dress that wrapped around her body, showing off curves without being too revealing, the color making her skin glow a rosy pink. Dangling earrings highlighted a graceful neck, and her dark brown hair was swept back from her face in an elegant knot. A few loose tendrils had escaped from the knot and framed a pair of sparkling brown eyes, which were now widening with surprise and annoyance. "Hardy? What are you doing here?"

Joe looked down at the woman. At first glance he didn't recognize her, but there was something in the way she said his name... He leaned in to examine her face more carefully. "Malone?" He turned to Frank, shock in his face. "You're going out with _Malone_? Jeez, Frank, isn't that kind of like dating yourself?" He turned as the FBI agent entered the room, admiring the way the dress hugged her curves but still flared out at the bottom, showing off a pair of very attractive legs he had never noticed before. "No offense. It's not that you don't look great – fantastic, actually – but you know what I mean." He craned his neck trying to catch a glimpse of her from behind.

Frank twisted Joe's arm behind his back, marched him to the door, and shoved his younger brother bodily out into the hall. "If you value your health, you will leave now," he muttered through barely-opened lips. He slammed the door shut, then turned to Kara Malone, eyes closed and head bowed, one hand on his forehead. "I am _so _sorry. He's supposed to be working." He lowered his hand and opened his eyes, an appreciative look on his face. "You do look... absolutely stunning. I must be the luckiest guy in New York tonight."

Malone raised an eyebrow at him. "Thank you. You're pretty dashing yourself. Shall we go?" Frank offered her his arm. She moved closer to him, tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they headed out the door.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Joe and Chet pulled in to the diner's parking lot. "I don't get why we had to drive," Chet said. "We could have just taken the subway and the LIRR and sat in a booth near them. The boyfriend doesn't know what you look like, right?"

"No," Joe answered, holding his camera up to his eye, "but it's better not to get too close, just in case. He might get suspicious if one of the same two guys keep showing up at each rendezvous."

Chet appraised his friend and sighed. "You two do kind of stick out, don't you? Is he there yet?"

Joe scanned the inside of the restaurant. "I think so. The girl's sitting in front of him, so I can't... Yeah, it's him. She bent down to get something from her purse." He shifted his weight in the driver's seat. "Just _once_ I'd love for them to switch places. We haven't been able to get a decent picture of her yet. She always sits with her back to the door." Chet made a 'humph' noise. Joe lowered the camera. "What?"

"I just can't believe you need two people to watch a guy cheat on his girlfriend." Chet wrinkled his nose. "It just feels – I don't know – wrong."

"Not every case is glamorous," Joe said ruefully. "You should have seen some of what I was doing while Frank was undercover – bookkeeping fraud, fake jewelery, a guy who wanted to prove his friend was cheating at cards. We can't end up in that kind of danger all the time; the hospital bills would be enormous, and this _is_ a business, so we have to take what comes our way."

"I know. I just don't have to like all of it." Chet reached down to the floor and brought out a bag of chips and a notebook. "So, Sherlock Hardy, what are we looking for exactly?" He opened the chips and offered some to Joe, who declined. "And why don't I know Ms. Martinez? She's a relatively new client, isn't she?"

"She hired us about a month ago. Weren't you at that Scrabble tournament then?" He peered into the restaurant again.

"A month ago? Crossword puzzles." Chet leaned back in his seat, his eyes growing distant, his lips curving into a smile. "That was where I met Julie."

Joe tilted his head to the side, eyes still focused ahead of him. "Julie? And why haven't I heard this name before?"

Chet laughed. "I've mentioned her several times over the last few weeks." His voice grew wistful. "As nice as it would be to claim she's my girlfriend, we mostly just talk on the phone and email. She lives in Quebec, so we're really just friends. It's not really going to go anywhere. It's hard to meet anyone with so many guys like you around." He chuckled. "You really don't remember? I think Frank's right. You _don't_ listen." Joe shifted uncomfortably, and Chet's expression softened. "Hey, Joe, that wasn't a criticism. Your brain just moves fast. You miss details sometimes. You get the important things. That's what matters."

Joe nodded, making sure he kept his eyes pointed forward. "File's in the back seat, if you want a recap." He waited until he was sure Chet had grabbed the folder before continuing. "Elena Martinez. Thirty years old. Her boyfriend's been acting strangely for the past few months. Changed his computer password, a lot of whispered conversations on his cell phone as of late, generally just acting suspicious. Ms. Martinez hired us to follow him and see if he's cheating on her."

Chet's eyes widened as he opened the folder. "This is her?" He pointed to a picture attached to the inside cover. It showed a gorgeous Latina woman with a heart-shaped face, brown eyes, and flawless skin the color of café au lait. "You're kidding. He's cheating on someone who looks like this?"

"She's even better looking in person," Joe said. "She studied ballet for years; she practically floats across the floor when she walks. It's enough to make me hope he is two-timing her so I might have a shot at asking her out. Anyway, she managed to get into his calendar and passes the information on to us. So far we've seen them three times – at least we think it's the same girl; she keeps changing her hairstyle – and all they do is look at photo albums. Stupid way to have an affair, if you ask me."

"Maybe they knew each other when they were younger and reconnected through the Internet," Chet mused. "That could explain the photo albums. High school sweethearts, girl next door, you know." Joe gave Chet a skeptical sideways glance. "What? So, aside from the cheating aspect, which I find reprehensible, I'm a romantic. What's wrong with that?"

"First of all," Joe lowered the camera and grabbed a few chips, "Sean O'Malley there?" He gestured to the man in another photo attached to the inside cover. This one showed a man of about the same age as Elena Martinez with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He wasn't as strikingly good looking as his girlfriend, but his smile indicated a good-humored personality. "He emigrated from Ireland about two years ago, and from the few glimpses Frank has gotten of the girl he's meeting, she's Mediterranean or Hispanic." He tossed the chips in his mouth and crunched them down. "Secondly, according to Ms. Martinez, he was a candidate for the priesthood until about six months prior to moving here. His family's choice, not his. It's why he left Ireland. His family disowned him when he left the seminary."

Chet whistled. "So now he's making up for lost time? I don't get it." Joe shrugged as Chet tried to stifle a yawn. "Did you bring any coffee? I'm bored." This time Chet yawned widely. "And I'm falling asleep. Are stakeouts always this boring?"

Joe snorted. "If you're lucky. And I don't drink coffee. That's Frank's vice, not mine."

"Well, I'm going in for some. You want something else?"

Joe stared at him in disbelief. "Chet, we're on a stakeout. The idea is not to be seen. Going into the diner? It kind of defeats the purpose."

"How?" Chet unbuckled his seat belt. "They don't know me from Adam. I haven't been following them around for the last three weeks."

Joe shook his head, the camera still glued on the couple who were now leaning towards each other over the table. "I just don't think it's a good idea." He pushed out a long, exasperated breath. "I wonder what they're doing in there."

"Joe, I have to get caffeinated, or the next sound you'll hear out of me is snoring. If I visit the bathroom first I can get a good look at her. Maybe even a picture of them together if I pretend to send a text message while I'm there." He pointed to the inside of the restaurant. "I'd have to go right by her both ways." He turned and put a hand on the door release. "You're sure you don't want anything? A Coke? It's the last time I'm offering."

"No." Joe shook his head again, resigned. "Frank says too many things get broken when I have caffeine; He thinks it makes me hyper. Anyway, I promised to bring this" – he indicated the lens with his chin – "back in one piece." He thought for a moment. "I wonder how his date's going?"

Chet rolled his eyes. "You mean you get worse?" He ducked as Joe tried to swat his head. "Who's Frank going out with anyway? Did you find out?"

"Malone." Joe couldn't keep the chagrin out of his voice. "I'd really rather not end up with her as a sister-in-law. She keeps threatening to shoot me."

"He's out with Kara? Hmmm."

"What?"

"I just can't see her with Frank, that's all. They're too much alike." Chet pushed the door open, stood in the parking lot, and stretched. "I'll be back in a few." With a flip of his hand, he shut the door and sauntered towards the diner's front door.

Joe watched as Chet entered the diner, ordered his coffee, and asked for directions to the bathroom. As he approached O'Malley and his date, he made a show of tripping and dropping his cell phone right by their table. Joe whistled in appreciation; Chet was better at this then he'd given him credit for. The woman bent down to pick up the phone, and when she handed it to Chet, Joe was able to get a clear shot of her profile. "Finally." He grinned widely. Through the lens he watched as Chet spent a few seconds thanking the woman, then turned and made a beeline for the back of the diner.

Within seconds, Joe's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He yanked his keys from his pocket, threw them on the seat next to him and pulled out his phone. The picture Chet had snapped clearly showed a pretty and vivacious Hispanic woman in her late twenties or early thirties. _O'Malley_ _must like the Latin type_, Joe thought as he looked at the photo. _We should bring Chet on these jobs more often. Now all I have to do is get these to Ms. Martinez. _He tossed his phone on the seat next to the keys and leaned over to grab the folder with Ms. Martinez's contact information. He could forward the picture to her cell phone and...

With his peripheral vision, Joe saw a blur of blue zipping close by his car window, and, on reflex, his head whipped to the side to investigate. What he saw was a woman walking quickly across the parking lot to the diner. For a few seconds, an appreciative smile appeared on his face as he watched the swinging of her hips in a pair of tight blue jeans as she purposefully – and somewhat forcefully – approached the entrance. Something about the way she walked caught his attention. She looked familiar, but Joe couldn't put his finger on where he had seen her before. He picked the camera back up and focused on her back. One arm swung back and forth as she walked; the other was tucked in her jacket pocket gripping something. As she turned and opened the door – practically yanking it off its hinges in the process – he caught a clear view of the very angry expression on her flawlessly beautiful face.

It was Elena Martinez.


	2. Chapter 2

Joe leaped from the car, stumbling as the camera strap around his neck caught on the inside door release, causing him to lean so hard on the door's armrest he could feel all the controls leave impressions on his lower arm. Once freed from the camera, he threw it on the front seat and slammed the door shut, hearing it close with a final-sounding click. He sprinted across the lot, managing to make it inside the diner seconds after the door had closed on his client.

As he pushed his way through the diner's customers, he saw O'Malley sitting alone, obviously surprised at Elena's sudden appearance. The mystery woman's purse was on the table, and Joe saw Elena's eyes tighten as she spotted it. Joe was just grateful the woman seemed to be away from the table at this exact moment; it would be easier to protect one person at a time. Elena started yelling something in Spanish Joe couldn't understand, but he saw O'Malley turn pale at the words. She waved her free right hand around in the air, using it to punctuate several of the more vehement phrases, but Joe's gaze stayed on her left hand. It was still tucked inside her pocket, and as her voice rose, her arm tensed, her hand gripping whatever was hidden there more tightly. Joe, sensing the passion in her words and concerned about the unknown object, threw himself between the couple.

Elena didn't miss a beat. She pushed Joe a few inches to one side, surprising him with her strength and yelling, "Get out of my way!" Even enraged, her voice was musical, and although Joe found it menacing under the circumstances, it was still utterly entrancing, and a small part of his brain wondered how O'Malley could ever consider cheating on such a magnificent woman. He straightened up, blocking her again. This time she simply leaned around him and shouted, "How could you do this to me?" Joe let out a long breath. Sure everyone wanted to know why, but the phrase had become clichéd.

O'Malley stood, hands open in front of him in a gesture of surprised innocence. "'Leyna, a chailín mo chroí, whatever's the..." Joe had to hand it to the Irishman. The guy was good. Even caught red-handed, he managed to sound almost genuinely confused.

"Don't 'darling' me, Sean O'Malley. I want to know who she is." Joe could hear the steel in Elena's voice as she snarled out the words and almost felt bad for O'Malley. Almost.

"Elena?" A woman's puzzled voice came from behind them. _Of course_,Joe thought, letting out a sigh. _Right on time. I couldn't have scripted it better_. "What are you doing here?"

Joe glanced over his shoulder and saw the woman from the cell phone picture walking towards the table. Chet stood a few feet behind her, grasping a styrofoam cup. Joe groaned, sensing the situation was quickly escalating out of control. He looked around, analyzing the room for escape strategies. _Too many people, too close by. If she has a gun..._

"Marisol?" Elena Martinez looked at the woman, her cheeks paling as her eyes widened in recognition. Joe recognized the signs of distress on her face and started swearing internally. Of course it had to be someone Elena knew. "Why am_ I_ here? I'm here because Sean is cheating on me," she spat out. "Why are _you_ here?"

Marisol stormed up to O'Malley and pushed hard on his shoulders, her face hardening. "You're _cheating_ on my cousin? You pig! You told me..." Her hands tightened into fists, and she began hitting the man's back.

Joe stood there, stunned. Her cousin. Of course the other woman was her cousin. It was all Joe could do not to roll his eyes. Within seconds, the yelling started.

"I'm not cheating..." "How could you.." "I can't believe..."

Then, all at once, Joe saw Elena pull her left hand out of her pocket, fingers wrapped around something small and black, and launched himself back between her and O'Malley, blocking the Irishman with his body. If he could just distract her for a moment... From the corner of his eye, he saw Chet's coffee fall to the floor as his friend flung the cup away and moved to stand in front of Marisol. _Please, G-d, let her have lousy aim_, Joe prayed. _Although there's no way she'd miss any of us at this range_. Elena froze, startled by the sudden change in target, and Joe struck out at her hand, forcing the object she held to the ground then quickly bent to retrieve... a cell phone. He stood there, momentarily dizzy with relief as he realized he wasn't holding a gun.

"Give me that," Elena snapped, grabbing the phone back from him and pushing him aside for the second time. This time he didn't move back, figuring if she hit O'Malley with the cell phone, he could just snatch it out of her hand again. "If you're not cheating on me, then explain why I'm getting messages from your sister about your inconstancy." _Now there's a word you don't hear everyday_, Joe mused. _Impressive vocabulary. Smart as well as fearless and beautiful._

"Dervla's calling you?" O'Malley's answering voice sounded incredulous, and Joe could see him angrily shaking his head. "Jeanie Mac, 'Leyna, she's touched in the head. You know that. She's still on about my leaving the church. You can't listen to her." His expression and voice softened. "I'm not running around on you, sweetheart. You have to know you're the only woman in my life."

"The only woman, Sean?" Elena Martinez's voice cracked as she pointed to her cousin. "Then why are you here with Marisol? Meeting her behind my back?"

Marisol stepped out from behind Chet. "Behind your back?" She turned to O'Malley. "You haven't told her yet?" She shook her head in disbelief. "What are you, stupid? She hates surprises. She overreacts every time. No wonder she thinks you're cheating." She turned back to her cousin and shrugged. "Elena, we're planning a quinceañera for you," she said, her voice matter-of-fact. "Sean asked for my help with the details. It's not really something he saw a lot of growing up."

"A quinceañera?" Elena's voice was flat and disbelieving She turned back to O'Malley, her attitude suddenly cold and dismissive. "And this I'm supposed to believe? Sean, you have a quinceañera when you turn fifteen. I'm going to be thirty." She folded the cell phone and put it back in her pocket. "You honestly thought I'd believe this story? I thought you were smarter than that. Of course, I also thought you loved me. I guess I was wrong on both counts."

Joe watched in shocked amazement as O'Malley reached past him to touch Elena's arm. "I _do_ love you. You told me how your celebration was curtailed by your father's illness. I wanted you to have the party you couldn't have when you were fifteen. You have to believe me, 'Leyna. I want the world for you." He reached out and tentatively took her hand. "I thought it would be a good way to celebrate our engagement."

"You're engaged?" Marisol's hands went to her hips as her voice went up a register. "You're engaged, and you didn't tell me? Elena!" Her face took on a look of aggrieved annoyance.

Elena went perfectly still. "Sean O'Malley, are you asking me to marry you?" Her hands started to shake and her eyes filled as O'Malley dropped to one knee in front of her.

"I told you, 'Leyna, you're the only woman I've ever loved. Elena Martinez, will you make me the happiest man in the world by accepting my hand? I don't have much to offer mo ghrá, but all I have is yours."

Joe blinked, then put his hands to his head trying to stave of the headache he could feel starting. He closed his eyes and thought backwards, trying to figure out exactly when his stakeout had turned into a badly written soap opera. When he opened them again, Elena and O'Malley were kissing, a teary-eyed Marisol had grabbed Chet's arm and was bouncing up and down, and the rest of the diner was cheering and applauding. He shook his head and turned so his eyes met Chet's. "I think we're done for tonight. Let's get going."

Chet nodded, and they stepped away from the obliviously happy couple. As they walked, Chet cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh, what I said about stakeouts being boring? Never mind. I haven't had this much excitement in a long time."

As they approached the door, Joe saw Marisol maneuvering through the crowd, walking towards them and trying to get their attention. While she wasn't as willowy as her cousin, she certainly was pretty with soft reddish-brown hair and lively brown eyes. Joe ran a hand through his hair and flashed her a quick smile, then watched in surprise as she stopped in front of Chet.

"Hey," she said, "I wanted to thank you."

Chet flushed. "For what?" he stammered.

"You don't know my cousin. Or me for that matter. For all you knew, she might have had a gun, but you stepped right in front of me. That was really brave. And sweet. And very romantic." She smiled shyly and looked up at him through long lashes. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," Chet said, his face now bright red. "Anyone else would have done the same thing."

"No," she disagreed. "They wouldn't. There was an entire diner full of people here, and you were the only one who did." She held out her hand to him. "Anyway, we weren't properly introduced. My name's Marisol Flores."

"Chet Morton." He took her hand, then started as she pulled him closer.

Marisol's smile widened. "I don't suppose I could buy you some coffee and dessert as a thank you? I was supposed to be helping Sean plan a party, but," she looked back at Elena and O'Malley, still kissing in the middle of the diner, "he seems to be otherwise occupied."

Chet blinked, then turned to Joe. "You mind?" Joe shook his head, then watched as the two of them disappeared back into the crowd of customers still holding hands. He let out a long breath and blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. _Never mind a soap opera, I think I'm in a Twilight Zone episode_. He shook his head again, then headed for the door.

As he walked through the parking lot, it started to rain. _Good thing I've got the car, _Joe thought. _I'd hate to get caught having to walk to the train station in this._ Beside him a car pulled out, its headlights momentarily blinding him as they reflected off the raindrops. A second one followed moments later, splashing him slightly as it drove too quickly out of the lot. The rain was coming down harder now. As he reached the car, he pulled his shirt up against the back of his neck to keep some of the rain out, then put his hand on the door's handle and pulled up. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. He cupped his hands against the window and peered inside, swearing loudly as rain dripped down his back. His eyes caught sight of the camera on the front seat. Next to it sat the Martinez file, his cell phone... and his keys. He groaned, remembering the struggle to get the camera strap detached from the inside door release, rubbing his arm where he could still feel dents in his skin. "Great," he muttered. "I must've hit the stupid door lock."

He put a hand back up to his forehead, feeling the headache returning, then turned back to the diner so he could find Chet and ask borrow his phone. The rain started coming down heavier, and a few rumbles of thunder sounded overhead. Once inside, the greeter informed him the people he'd been with had left a few minutes before, and Joe remembered the two cars that had passed him. "Wonderful," he sighed. "Lovely ending to a lovely day. At least I still have my wallet." Then he asked for directions to the nearest train station, hitched his collar back up, and started walking in the downpour.


	3. Chapter 3

Nearly two hours later, Joe arrived in Manhattan at Frank's building. He had gone to his own place first but, without his keys, hadn't been able to get in. He remembered razzing Frank about choosing an older building when they first moved to the city. "What do you need a doorman for, 'bro? Get with the times. Keyed entry is the way to go." As he had headed back out into the rain, he wished he hadn't been quite so obnoxious about the issue; Frank was going to enjoy this situation way too much.

Luck was with him when he finally reached Frank's apartment. Despite his rain-soaked clothes, Frank's doorman recognized him and let him in, clucking like a mother hen about Joe's sodden state. "Make sure you have some chicken soup when you get home, Mr. Hardy," the man said. "Otherwise you'll catch cold. Oh, and you're brother's home, but you might want to wait..." Joe – eager to get a towel, an umbrella, and his spare keys – thanked the man for his advice and promptly headed for the elevator without letting him finish his sentence. He figured the way this day had gone, he'd probably catch a cold anyway. _With my luck tonight? Never mind a cold, it'll probably be the flu._

When the elevator door opened, Joe squelched towards Frank's door, leaving a clear, wet path on the carpet and mentally rehearsing what he would say to minimize the teasing he knew would be coming, when he suddenly stopped short. Frank's door stood open, and his brother was standing in the entryway... with Malone. Joe stood there, mouth open and mind racing. With everything that had happened tonight, he had completely forgotten about Frank's date. Malone stood in front of Frank – still captivating in her blue dress – with her head tilted up in a way that could only mean one thing. Joe watched in horror as Frank gently cupped Malone's face with his hands and leaned in to kiss her. Joe's eyes slammed shut and he backed down the hallway as quietly as possible; there were certain things he didn't need to see. _And Frank kissing Malone comes up near the top of that list._ He shuddered and sloshed his way back to the elevator, pressing the down button with a ferocity that had everything to do with a need to excise the mental image of Frank and Malone from his brain.

From down the hallway he heard murmured voices and knew there was no way the elevator would come quickly enough for his liking. He bolted for the stairs.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After seventeen flights, Joe felt almost grateful for his soaking wet clothes. _Things could be worse. At least I'm not sweating._ Then he stepped outside. If he'd thought it had been raining hard before, he had been mistaken. The skies had opened up, and water was running two inches deep on the streets. _The ark should be coming by any minute. 'Bing' 'Noah.' _He could hear the old Bill Cosby routine running through his head as he sprinted for the coffee shop across the street. The coffee shop faced the front of Frank's building, and he figured from there he could keep an eye out for Malone's exit. Frank spent enough time and money supporting his coffee habit that even if Joe didn't buy anything – between the train fare and the subway tokens, his wallet was now empty – he assumed the owner wouldn't mind if he stayed for a while. When Malone left, he'd try Frank's door again. _If she leaves. Oh, G-d... _ He groaned. Another mental image he really hadn't needed. Desperate to find something else to think about, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Hey!" The female voice just coming through the door him sounded annoyed. "Can you not do that right here? You're getting me all wet." It was also familiar.

Joe opened his eyes in amazement. In front of him stood Kara Malone, shaking out an umbrella with one hand and wiping droplets of water from her face with the other. "But I just saw... I mean, you were just... How did you get here so quickly?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You just saw what, Hardy? And what do you mean 'so quickly'? Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you have your own place to live? Or do you just enjoy spying on your brother?"

Joe's shoulders slumped. With everything else that had happened this evening, he was not prepared to deal with Malone right now. "I'm not spying," he muttered. "I... The stakeout got... complicated. And weird. The short version is I got locked out of my apartment, and I was hoping to get my spare keys from Frank." He let out a breath. "The evening was bad enough, I honestly forgot you guys were on a date." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Speaking of which, why _are _you here?"

She looked at him pointedly. "Were you not just outside? It's pouring," she responded, closing the umbrella.

"That's not what I meant. Look, the last time I saw you, you were kissing my brother." An annoyed expression crossed her face, and Joe looked down at the floor, trying to come up with words to say that didn't sound as bad as the ones in his head. "I sort of thought you might be... busy... over there for a while."

Malone's eyes flashed. "Glad to know you think that highly of me, Hardy." She shook her head and looked out the window at the rain, which was now falling in vertical sheets onto the street, and sighed. "This is going to be a long wait from the looks of it. I'm getting coffee." She turned and crossed to the counter. Joe's eyes followed for a moment, admiring the flare of the skirt around her legs, then he shook himself, remembering that not only was Malone his brother's date but she was also an FBI agent, which probably meant she carried a gun with her at all times. And, as usual, she was irritated, which seemed to happen a lot when he was around. He didn't feel the need to find out how good a shot she was, so he moved to the counter overlooking the entrance, making sure not to watch Malone's reflection in the window.

The sound of two mugs hitting the counter startled him into looking up. "Uh, thanks, but I don't..."

"It's hot chocolate." Malone pushed one of the mugs towards him; whipped cream floated on top. "You don't drink coffee."

"drink... How did you know?"

She gave him a flat stare. "I pay attention. When I'm at your office for any reason, Frank offers me coffee. Your office guy – Chet? – offers me coffee. You? You don't offer me coffee." She took a sip of her drink and flinched as the hot liquid touched her lips. "Women who don't offer coffee in an office are trying to get rid of you. Men who don't offer it, don't drink it." She blew on the surface of the mug and tried again. "Despite all evidence to the contrary, you appear to be male, ergo, you don't drink coffee."

Joe squinted at her. "So, you've never offered me anything to drink at your office because you were trying to get rid of me," his said, his voice flat. "Good to know. Next time I'm there, I'll provide my own refreshments." Since he had no spoon, he pushed the whipped cream to the side with his finger and took a drink of his hot chocolate. "So, why are you here now instead of keeping warm and dry with my brother?"

Malone raised her eyebrow at him again and waited a long minute before responding. "As much as I hate to admit it? It's because you were right, which I'll deny if asked."

"I'm sorry? Did you say I was right about something?" he smirked, suddenly feeling as if the evening had gotten much better.

"Don't let it go to your head, Hardy," she cautioned. "I'm sure it won't happen again." She took another drink and sighed. "On paper, your brother looks like perfect boyfriend material – he's intelligent, funny, he's got those gorgeous brown eyes. And that body..."

Joe clamped his hands over his ears. "Okay, _way_ too much information. Forget I asked."

Malone laughed. Joe had never heard her laugh before; it was a nice sound, and he found he wanted to hear it again. "You don't have a lot of female friends, do you? Anyway, that's on paper. The evening was nice – pleasant, fun..."

"But not exciting," Joe finished.

Malone nodded in agreement. "I can't believe I'm telling you this, but your assessment was right on target. It was like being on a date with a male version of myself. Predictable." She paused, a rueful expression appearing on her face. "Which means I must be really dull if I only attract guys like myself." Her face reddened as she realized what she was saying. "Not that I think Frank is dull. I don't; there was just no... no..."

"No spark?" He took another gulp of his drink. Malone didn't respond just looked at him, then laughed again. "What?"

"Whipped cream on your nose." Joe swiped at his face, but she shook her head. "Boy, you really are hopeless, Hardy. How do you even get dressed in the morning?" He tried again. "No, it's still there. I can't carry on a conversation with you with that on your face. Here, let me."

She lifted her hand and gently wiped the side of his nose, her fingers brushing the edge of his cheekbone. Joe gasped. The touch of her hand felt like an electric shock on his skin. Her eyes grew wide, and she froze, her hand still touching his cheek. As she slowly lowered her hand, Joe desperately worked at remembering how to breathe. He finally managed a hoarse "Thank you," as his mind raced, trying to recall if he had ever actually touched Malone before. All their meetings during Frank's undercover work had been across desks and had held a definite edge of rancor, and while they had shared an awkward hug at her sister's funeral, Malone had left so much space between them Frank probably would have fit between them if he'd tried.

"The rain's slowed down." Malone's voice sounded uncertain and when he was finally able to focus, Joe could see her breathing was no steadier than his own. Had she felt what he did? She bent down and picked up her umbrella from the floor. "I have to get going," she finally stammered. "Work tomorrow."

Joe stood. "Let me walk you to the station." There was no way he was going to let her go now.

The eyebrow went up again, but this time the corners of her mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Chivalry from you? What will you if anyone gets too close? Drip on them?" She shook her head. "I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, need to get out of those clothes." She gulped audibly as her eyes raked his wet form, and Joe shivered under her gaze. "Into dry ones, I mean. See you... later"

Joe watched as she left, breathing hard, too stunned to move.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Less than half an hour later, Joe was sitting in Frank's apartment, one towel wrapped around his shoulders and another around his waist, his clothes dripping into Frank's tub.

"Let me get this straight," Frank was shaking his head. "You locked your keys and cell phone in the car? Exactly how did you manage this?"

Joe shivered. "Does it matter? The point is, the case is done, Ms. Martinez is happy, and I think Chet may have met a girl in the process. Hey, can you turn the heat up? I'm freezing"

"You know, you're lucky I was still awake. Let's not push it. And the camera lens?

"It's fine. Still in the car, but fine." Joe cleared his throat, trying to make his next question sound nonchalant, "That's right, you were out tonight. So, how did the big date go anyway?" He paused, hoping his voice sounded level. "Think you'll be asking Malone out again?"

Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Probably not. It was a fun evening, but I think we work better as friends."

"Disappointed?" Joe shivered again, this time from the remembrance of Malone's hand touching his face.

"A little, but not really," Frank responded. "It was nice to have a night out, and I don't really want to mess up my working relationship with Kara. We had fun." He narrowed his eyes and regarded his brother. "Are you really that cold? And why are you smiling?"

"Huh?" Joe tried to wipe the smile off his face. "No reason."

Frank stood and walked over to the kitchen area. "I'm going to make you some tea. Hot liquid would probably be good. Or do you want some soup? I may have some of Tony's Italian Wedding soup in the freezer."

"Got any hot chocolate?" The words were out of Joe's mouth before he could stop them.

"Hot chocolate? You haven't had that to warm up since you were, what, eleven?" Frank retraced his steps and put a hand on Joe's forehead. "You're not getting sick on me, are you?"

"No. I was just suddenly in the mood." Frank walked over to a cabinet and Joe watched as he started rifling through it, obviously searching for cocoa mix. Joe reached up a hand to his cheek, tracing where Malone's hand had been and smiled again. Maybe the night hadn't gone so badly after all. He'd survive the ribbing from Frank and Chet, and maybe, just maybe, he could find an excuse to visit Malone's office in the next day or so. He'd just have to make sure to bring some hot chocolate with him. Maybe enough for two.


End file.
